Hypothetical Situation
by Evil Demon Warrior Bunny
Summary: In which Mashiro is annoying, Kensei is suitably annoyed, and Rose smirks behind his hands a lot. KenseiMashiro oneshot, humor.


**_No_, my dear readers and author-alert-subscriber-people, it is not the angsty GinRan I promised you. It is, of all things, humorous KenseiMashiro. It is also, however, very good and IC and I demand that you read it and leave lots of lovely reviews because it took me a while to write.**

**Not, like, _forever_, but a while.**

**Anyway, feed my growing ego and R&R, or, y'know, _don't_, but thanks anyway. BTW, don't own, wish I did, tear tear tear, etc. Enjoy.**

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"Kensei!"

Kensei looked up from his magazine at his green-haired former Lieutenant. She was staring down at him where he sat cross-legged on a rock, wearing the ditzy-and-annoying expression he'd come to expect from her over the decades.

"What?" he asked irritably.

Mashiro seemed to take this as an invitation to continue, for she plopped down next to him and folded her hands on her lap. "I have a hypothetical situation for you," she began.

"Eh," Kensei grunted, entirely uninterested.

"Okay, so say there's this girl," Mashiro said.

"Mashiro, what are you doing?"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "And she likes this guy. She _really_ likes him."

"Mash—"

"What should she do?" Mashiro looked up at him with wide eyes. "Eh, Kensei?"

"I don't give relationship advice," said man told her dismissively, going back to his magazine. If she was having man problems—though with who, honestly, in this place?—he didn't feel the need to help her.

"It's a hypothetical situation, Kensei!" She was pouting. He could tell without even looking up.

"No."

"Please? Please? Please? Plleeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaassssssseeeeeee?" She continued in this vein for a while and Kensei attempted to ignore both her and the incessant pounding in his temple. At last he gave up.

"Fine! Fine! Just…shut up."

"So?" Mashiro asked. She seemed to have forgotten that the previous five minutes had even occurred.

"What's her name?" Kensei asked. He was pretty sure it was her, but it never hurt to find out.

"It's hypothetical," Mashiro told him as if he were particularly dense. "Why would she need a name?"

"Never mind." Yep, it was her all right. "Er…what's her relationship to him?"

"…Not relevant." Mashiro said after a lengthy pause.

"Mm-hmm." The liar. "What's their relationship?"

"Okay, let's say she…works under him."

"Like a subordinate." Kensei clarified. Oh ho! Now they were getting somewhere.

"Like, but possessing, uh, subtle yet noticeable differences, that, er, um, I can't go into right now. Kay?" Mashiro babbled. She blinked rapidly then used her particular brand of defense mechanism: she rolled onto her back and giggled. After a moment or so of this she sat back up and resumed her previous position. Kensei just stared.

"Whatever. Er…I dunno. Do whatever." He was quickly losing interest. Let Mashiro do what she wanted with her mystery crush. He had a magazine to peruse.

"Kensei's a meanie! He's so unhelpful!" Mashiro suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs. She made faces at him and Kensei recoiled.

"God, will you just shut up, please? For two seconds?"

"If you help me I will," Mashiro said sweetly, all innocence and apple pie.

"…I hate you, you know," muttered Kensei, gritting his teeth.

"Yep!" She seemed disturbingly ready to agree to that. Mashiro then switched topics at a speed that would have made Yoruichi Shihoin proud. "What should my hypothetical girl with her hypothetical guy that she hypothetically is similar to a subordinate to do?"

"You do realize that sentence made next to no sense whatsoever," Kensei said after a beat.

"Kensei!" Mashiro looked at him with puppy eyes.

"Gaah! Alright, um…how does he feel about her?"

"He thinks she's kind of annoying, I think—" Mashiro began.

"Oh, we share something—" Kensei muttered.

"—But I think he likes her all the same," she finished, resting her elbows on the rock and her chin on her hands. She looked up at him through thick eyelashes. "What do you think, Kensei?"

"I—er—" Damn, what was he supposed to say? He didn't _do_ this whole romance thing.

"I mean," Mashiro said softly, shifting her body so it faced him, "It's not like he's really cruel to her or anything. And he puts up with a lot from her, which is a very admirable quality, don't you think? Because this hypothetical girl can be pretty annoying when she wants to be."

Kensei started when her hand touched his bicep, and he looked down into her eyes. Brown orbs met golden ones and they shared a breath. After a long moment Kensei looked away.

"I don't know what you should do, Mashiro," he told her soberly. "It's _your_—hypothetical situation."

Mashiro's face drooped. "Oh. Oh. Well, I guess I could ask Hachi-n or something," she muttered, shifting where she sat. Her knees brushed against his side; he hadn't realized that they had been so close together.

She looked so sad, sitting there, that Kensei cupped her cheek in one hand and tilted her head back up. He looked at her appraisingly for a moment as Mashiro stared back in wide-eyed astonishment. Then he carefully brought her face forward and brushed her lips with his own.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds before Kensei pulled away and dropped his hand. Sometime during their encounter Mashiro's eyes had drifted shut, ad now she sat perfectly still—a rare occurrence in and of itself—with her mouth slightly open and her breathing more shaky than usual. He studied her face. He honestly had no idea why he'd kissed her, but it hadn't really felt too bad. Maybe…

He kissed her again, deeper this time. Mashiro's hands stole around his neck, her body pliant against his. Kensei's magazine fell of his lap and lay forgotten on the floor. Right now all there was was Mashiro, and her lips and her hands and her hair and her scent and—

"What the hell?"

They both looked up to see Rose standing there with his guitar in hand and a bemused expression on his face.

"Rose, ah—" Kensei began, disentangling himself from Mashiro and standing up, "It's really not what it looks like."

Rose raised an eyebrow. Behind Kensei, Mashiro snorted.

"Okay, maybe—oh, fuck off, you," he grunted, dropping all pretense. "Go away and leave us alone."

Rose gave a mocking little salute and turned away.

"And don't even _think_ about telling—"

"I won't," Rose murmured without turning around. "Also," he added, still facing the other direction but with a note in his voice that told Kensei that without a doubt he was smirking, "I don't think I'm the one you should be worrying about. If you don't want people to know, that is." He walked off.

"Wha…" Kensei didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, as he felt Mashiro's arms creeping up his sides from behind and wrapping loosely around his chest. As he turned and gathered her up in his arms, he realized what Rose had meant. There was _no way_ that they were going to keep this secret from the rest of the Vizards; not with Mashiro being as flamboyant and, frankly, _oblivious_ as she was.

As if reading his mind, Mashiro giggled against his lips and jumped backward. "Kensei! Kensei, what are we going to say to Shin—"

"We are _not_," Kensei interrupted forcefully, "I repeat, _not_ going to mention this to Shinji. Or—" he added, foreseeing her next objection and stopping it in its tracks, "Hachi or Lisa or anybody."

Mashiro pouted. "Kensei's a meanie!" she ejaculated.

Kensei glared at her. "You know how much I hate you sometimes, don't you?" he questioned.

The girl smirked and drew closer. "No I don't, Kensei," she said, murmuring into his ear. "Tell me exactly," —his cheek— "_exactly_," —his lips— "how much." She paused with her mouth barely covering his, her hands tracing small circles through his shirt. He could hardly breathe.

_Damn_ Mashiro. Why did she have to choose now, of all times, to start being sexy? There was a hitch in his breath and a tightening of his body that was in no way related to anger. He pushed her off rather more roughly than strictly necessary and turned around for a minute to compose himself. When he turned back he was the very picture of cool, calm, collected-ness.

"Listen—" he began, then stopped. This was, after all, Mashiro he was talking to. Mashiro who was whiny, who threw fits, who followed him around all the time, who had saved his life more than once and was unwaveringly loyal. Mashiro who was now standing in front of him, lips still swollen from kisses, looking at him with a mixture of hope and mischievousness. Mashiro who didn't give a damn what people thought about her, or them, or any of this whole Vizard mess.

His Mashiro.

Kensei gave a growl and pulled the girl off her feet and into his arms bridal style. He carried her, protesting all the while, down the steps into the living area where the rest of the Vizards were gathered. They drew a few strange looks from the assembled company, but Kensei ignored them. He set Mashiro on her feet and proceeded to kiss the figurative socks off of her. She responded in kind.

When they finally stopped to draw breath, Kensei looked up to see a row of five shocked expressions and one barely concealed smirk. He nodded at Rose then put an arm around Mashiro, who was swaying slightly from lack of oxygen.

"Mashiro and I are together. If any of you twerps have a problem with that, tell me now so I can beat the shit out of you." Kensei glared at the other Vizards.

To his surprise, no one voiced anything resembling an objection. There were a few groans, but they seemed to consist primarily of Hiyori and Love, who were then seen to exchange some money with Shinji and Rose, respectively. Kensei was near speechless.

"You—you were _betting_?!? On whether Mashiro and I got together or not?" There were general nods. Even Mashiro, nestled by his side, bobbed her head up and down. He rounded on her. "_You_ knew?"

Mashiro shrugged her shoulders. "Don't act like we're all as stupid as you, Kensei-meanie." Completely contrary to her words, she snuggled even closer. "Silly." She leaned up and kissed his nose. In front of them, Hiyori made a gagging noise and was cuffed on the head by Shinji. While she was berating him, Mashiro grabbed Kensei's hand and dragged him out. She pulled him along until they had reached a secluded corner of the room, then sat down, back against the wall, and patted the space beside her. "Sit!" she commanded. Kensei sat.

Mashiro snuggled up to him until she was practically in his lap, but Kensei found he didn't mind. There was something absurdly comforting in having the lithe body nestled in his. His arm drifted around her shoulders and they sat like that, side by side for a long time in mostly silence, with Mashiro throwing in a random comment here and there and Kensei shushing her, trying to enjoy the moment.

"Ne, Kensei?" said Mashiro after a while. Kensei looked now at her.

"Eh?"

"So, what _do_ you think she should do?"

Kensei looked blank.

"About my hypothetical situation?"

Kensei rolled his eyed, ruffled her hair, and leaned back, closing his eyes. Some things never changed.

Life was good.

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**Eh? Eh? Tis good? Tis bad? Tis review-deserving? Not-so-subtle-hint, eh?**

**Anyway, thanks for reading. I just adore this pairing, and there's not nearly enough of it to go around.**


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